


Honored Spouse

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Mulan (1998)
Genre: F/M, Gender Identity, Genderfluid Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 04:39:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16612121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: Ping was a part of Mulan, not simply a role she played. Some days that was more comfortable, some days the feminine was. Shang might not have understood that feeling, but it was part and parcel of who she was, and he loved all of her.





	Honored Spouse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nerakrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerakrose/gifts).



It probably would have been easier if there was a distinct division between Mulan and Ping. Then she could point to a period of time and say an action belonged to one self or another. She could say that disobeying her father was the first flash of Ping coming into existence, that cutting her hair was his moment of birth.

The truth was, Ping had always been there. Elements of that self had kept Mulan from being the delicate girl she was expected to be, and she'd never been comfortable being so outrageously feminine all the time. Moments, sure. Days, even. But there were times it didn't feel right, that it was like putting on a mask that didn't quite fit, and she hated that the performance of girlhood was so difficult. Mulan was who she was, and somethings she wasn't quite a girl. Being Ping was so much easier at those times, natural, and she gloried in it during training. Not the training itself, exactly, that was difficult and forced her to build muscle and train her mind in different ways she hadn't been used to. It was the feeling of being free, that she was more herself on those awkward days, that it felt _right_ in a way she couldn't explain.

With the Emperor's honors given to her family, Mulan was expected to be only a girl again. A woman. The one to run the kitchens and nurture and bear children. That had always been expected of her, so she'd wanted it for that reason alone, but it didn't feel like _her_ goal most of the time. Shang, at least, was willing to listen to her in those times her parents allowed them to be alone together for courting. He'd been awkward, of course, not sure how to treat her as a woman or court a warrior.

"I'm the same as I was before," she tried to explain as she poured him tea. "Awkward as a girl in all the robes for the matchmaker, comfortable in less formal dress. Army uniforms aren't too much different from daily wear dresses."

Shang laughed at that. "But it's trousers and a skirt. Totally different."

A devilish twinkle appeared in her eye, just as it would if she was Ping. "Do you trust me?" she asked, smile wide.

He knew better by now that would be a loaded question, but one that would lead to wonderful things if he listened and answered honestly.

"Yes," he told her, lips curling into a warm smile.

Her parents trusted her and adored Shang, so there really wasn't a chaperone for them at all. It was easy to bring him to her rooms, to have him strip down to the skin and then wear one of her daily dresses. He complained and pulled faces at her, but let her put on the silks and then stand him in front of her mirror. The dress was short on him, of course, but otherwise wrapped around his frame easily.

His reflection stared back at him in shock. "It's soft," he acknowledged, fingering a fold of the silk. "Not as heavy as it looks, so I can still move and fight if I have to."

"Shall I paint your face?" she teased.

Shang looked at his reflection in the mirror critically, then at her. He took a breath, as if to gird his courage, then nodded solemnly.

He sat very still as she put the face paint on, then applied the lip color with a brush. Mulan did the full face makeup as best as she knew how, his back to the mirror, then had him turn around to see the pale woman's face that looked back at him. "Oh," he murmured in wonder, seeing the rouged lips and lined eyes staring back at him. His jaw remained rough and square, his nose a bit too big to be stereotypically feminine, but it wasn't exactly a displeasing sight.

"Perhaps we all have something in us other than what we were born as. Or this is something you've always wanted to be?"

"No," he said after a moment, voice deep as he contemplated his reflection. "This isn't me. This doesn't feel right."

"Because _you_ feel it isn't, or because everyone else sees you a different way?"

That gave him pause, because she wasn't yelling or arguing. He could prepare for that, sort of, but not for a quiet probing of opinion that made him think. He'd never had the opportunity to really explore this kind of question before, and he didn't know how to answer. As far as he could remember, he'd been what was expected of him, and hadn't known anything else. It had never even occurred to him to want to be anything different.

"I... I don't know. This should be wrong. It doesn't feel like who I am, but it isn't as upsetting as I thought it would be."

Mulan kissed him on the mouth, threading her fingers through his hair to lock him into place. Her tongue traced his lips, and he grasped hold of her body to make sure she would keep kissing him. She didn't pull back when the kiss ended, and only dipped her head forward so that their foreheads touched. "Not upsetting, but not natural," she murmured. "I started that way."

He frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

"Becoming Ping was easy for me, natural. I didn't feel that way as Mulan. Most things expected of me didn't feel natural."

"So are you really Ping?"

"It's not that easy. He's me, not separate from me. Just, some days I feel better in makeup and playing the coquette, some days I miss the barracks and army life."

"You don't mean just remembering it, do you?" Shang guessed. She shook her head. "I guess I don't understand what that feels like."

"It's all right," she murmured, pulling one hand out of his hair to rub at his lip, removing the rest of the lip rouge. "We're together."

He smiled and tightened his grip on her hips. "Your family won't give me up so easily."

"Nor will I." Mulan shot him that same playful look. "I think you're stuck with us."

"There are worse fates," Shang laughed. He ran his fingers over the sash of her dress. "These are comfortable, at least. I don't mind these, actually."

"So no face paint."

"I've never liked that look on women."

Mulan was absolutely delighted. "Really? So I won't have to do that for our wedding?"

"Absolutely not. And I have no family left to impress, so there is no reason at all to do that." There was a bit of a wistful note in his voice; Shang had revered his father, and had taken his death very hard.

"How would they feel about this?" she asked, running her hands down his flat chest, pressing the silk against his skin.

"My marrying you? We'll have strong sons."

"I meant you wearing my dress."

Shang rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter."

"No?"

"No," he said firmly. "They only thing that matters is that _I_ am happy with you, and that _I_ will wear your dress or my uniform, or whatever country robes they have out here if it's really that different from the city."

"Not really." Mulan ran her hands along his sides, until she got to the sash. "So you like wearing this? Really?"

"More than I thought I would," he told her honestly. "Then again, I thought I'd hate it."

Mulan laughed along with him, then leaned in for another kiss. "There are some uses to having a dress like this," she purred. She moved her hands down and grasped the skirt of the dress with two fists, lifting it up. "Especially country dresses. Not so formal as court. Not so many layers or ornaments to weight them down. Or remove."

"Planning to anticipate the wedding?" Shang asked, tugging at the sash of her dress.

"Are you opposed to that?" she asked with a grin. "It's breaking a rule, and we know how you are about rules."

"They can bend," he murmured, pulling her sash completely free. "I've learned that. It doesn't always have to be rigidly followed."

Mulan pulled his sash free and pulled the layers of silk aside until she could grasp him in her hand. "Some things only work well if rigid," she teased.

He sucked in a breath. "Mulan Your family..."

"You'll have to be quiet."

"Me?!" he yelped indignantly.

"I can keep very, very silent if I have to."

He shot her a rueful grin. "I suppose to you do. But I look forward to the say when you really don't have to."

"Soon. One more month."

"Do we really have to wait for your great-uncle's cousins?"

"Father wants that, and I don't want to disrespect that request." She nipped his lips and squeezed his manhood. "I consider us already married, if that helps."

"Not if your father catches us."

"He's on the opposite side of the house with his reading, so he'll be occupied for hours. Mother and Grandmother are at the market." She licked is lower lip and gave him a saucy grin. "So for today, at least, you can be loud if you really need to be."

He pulled her head down for a kiss while she stroked and squeezed him, quickly discovering what he liked best. Shang wasn't going to remain so passive, however, and returned the favor by delving beneath the layers of silk that Mulan wore. This was certainly easier to access than city girls at court would have had to deal with, and Shang found the spot between her legs easily.

"It doesn't matter to me if you're Ping or Mulan or someone in between," Shang told her earnestly. "Whoever you are on whatever day it is, you belong with me."

"I'm me," she told him, rolling her palm over him in a way that she was rapidly discovering was his favorite kind of touch. "Now and always, and here for you."

Shang's gaze was loving and growing more heated with passion. "These are all the wedding vows that I will ever need."

There weren't any words after that; they were unnecessary now. Mulan didn't mind the feel of his hand between her legs, though she was far more curious about the manhood in her hand. He'd been so prim and proper before. Who knew having him in a dress and face paint could have unlocked his reticence to touch and claim her? Perhaps this was a sign of Ping coming to the fore, perhaps not. Discovering this about herself was relatively new, and she was glad it wasn't something that she would have to hide in order to be accepted. It was all her, all that Shang wanted, and it didn't matter to him who she was going to be, or what gender she felt more like that day. 

Shang deepened the kiss, and she let him take the lead. There would be time enough for her to lead him when she learned more about bedding him. She'd never asked him, but she was sure that he would enjoy directions from her. If his acceptance of her dresses were any indication, he might be a little more than just a man himself.

After they explored and played with each others' bodies, limbs loose and languid, Mulan smiled at Shang as if he hung the moon. He took one look at her expression and broke out into laughter. She poked him, good mood not soured in the slightest. "Make fun of me, will you?" she asked him, her playful tone making it clear she wasn't angry with him.

"I don't think I've ever seen you look like that before," he said, reading forward to brush his fingers across her cheek.

"Is that a bad thing?"

Shang shook his head and leaned in to kiss her forehead tenderly. "Something for me to aspire to, I think. I like that kind of smile. So content, and I put it there."

"You make me happy," Mulan told him simply.

He caressed her cheek. "And you make me happier than I ever thought possible, Fa Mulan. I am honored to be your husband."

"Today, I am honored to be your bride," she replied, an impish cast to her smile. "On another day, I might be honored to be your husband."

That made him laugh again. "My beloved spouse," he compromised.

"I like the sound of that," Mulan told him, leaning in for another kiss. It acknowledged all of her, the feminine and masculine and the messy bits that didn't quite line up easily.

His grin was as pleased and infectious as hers had been. "Me, too."

The End


End file.
